


Real Life Sucks

by LittleMissFandomWorld



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fake Marriage, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Gen, Humor, Life Skills class, Married Life, Parenting Class, Parody, Simulation, it's all a bit over the top, they're learning to live in the real world
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-20
Updated: 2016-04-19
Packaged: 2018-05-28 00:34:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6306727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleMissFandomWorld/pseuds/LittleMissFandomWorld
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"In short, this class is going to teach you to survive life." Professor McGonagall thinks she's come up with a brilliant idea. There are several hundred students who disagree. PARODY (of sorts)</p><p>or</p><p>The seventh year students of Hogwarts take part in a life-simulation class, living in a life-sized village, learning to cook their own meals, care for their magically created kids, and not kill each other in the process.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Arrival at Hogwarts

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!
> 
> I have read a few Parenting Class stories, since it seems to be a rite of passage in the HP fandom. While I appreciate the sentiment, I feel that there were… well, some issues with a lot of them. Like being handed a baby and being told "here you go, and by the way, we're not having any more classes so have fun keeping it alive!" which is essentially what happens in a lot of those stories. Also, being partnered up doesn't exactly work. I don't know about you, but in every class I've ever been in the girls outnumbered the guys. So what happens to the three girls in the corner who have to be single mums because there's not enough guys? Exactly.
> 
> This is my take on how a well thought out parenting/life skills class at Hogwarts would go.
> 
> I'm not particularly interested in exploring romantic relationships. People paired together for this project are in it for the project - just because they're married with four kids doesn't mean they're going to get together.

Minerva McGonagall braced herself for the tide of students that would flood through the doors at any moment.

She hoped it had been a good idea to invite the older students back, even though really she'd had no choice in the matter. The Ministry had decided that since more than a few subjects had been taught by unqualified Death Eaters and the O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.S hadn't been held, they wouldn't be counted in a student's results.

So, many students would be returning to complete those classes. Those students who had completed most subjects satisfactorily would only have to retake Defence Against the Dark Arts and Muggle Studies. Those who hadn't done well or, like Miss Granger, Mr Weasley and Mr Potter, hadn't done their seventh year at all, would be completing the entire curriculum with the current Seventh Years.

And then there was the problem of the inter-House prejudice. For those first year students Sorted into Slytherin, there would be a lot of bad blood.

Minerva sighed. There were so many hurdles lining up in front of her. Best to take them one at a time. The doors opened.

\- Real Life Sucks -

"… is off limits. Our caretaker, Mr Filch, would like to remind students that there is a blanket ban on Weasley Wizard Wheezes products, as well as an assortment of other items. The list will be hanging in each common room for those who wish to peruse it. For the list of exceptions, see Mr Filch in his office. Follow the screams," she added with a smile. She noticed a few of the first years gulping. "Quidditch will be running again this year. Madam Hooch will be running informal Quidditch sessions every Saturday morning from nine until lunch, so the Quidditch captains will have to arrange their training around that. Schedules will be handed out tomorrow at breakfast.

"I would like to introduce our new History of Magic teacher, Professor Boxwell, and our new Transfiguration teacher, and Head of Gryffindor House, Mr Weasley, who has until recently been working as a curse-breaker at Gringotts Bank. However, in light of recent… events, he has decided to remain a little closer to his family. He brings with him his wife, Fleur, who will be working as my assistant. Some of you may remember her from the Tri-Wizard Tournament a few years ago. I expect you to treat them with the respect accorded their position.

"Finally, this year the school has decided to run a new program for Seventh Years. Participation is mandatory. This project is liable to affect the entire school, so after breakfast, all students are required to report back to their common rooms so their Heads of Houses can brief them. Seventh years will remain in the Great Hall. I recommend punctuality. I would hate to have to transfigure any of you into pocket watches." She could swear she saw Weasley suppress a snicker.

\- Real Life Sucks -

Luna Lovegood sat quietly at the Ravenclaw table. To anyone watching, she was staring dreamily into the distance, paying no attention to anyone at the table and only coming back to herself long enough to put another forkful of food into her mouth. Those sitting around her were used to her spacing out. They would never guess how carefully she listened to their conversations.

"I bet it's Animagus transformations," Terry Boot raved to Robert Hilliard.

"Those are really hard. Besides, how would that affect the rest of the school? And why wouldn't she just tell us?" Robert pointed out.

Terry paused for a moment. "UFOs," he declared.

"What?" Robert asked, completely perplexed.

"Unidentified Flying Objects. Aliens."

"What about them? You don't seriously think that's what our project is. McGonagall is more likely to make us study advanced charms for protection."

Luna stopped focusing on their conversation. Neither of them had any real information. Behind her, she could hear two Gryffindors talking.

"Maybe it's a careers talk. You know, what we should be thinking of doing. And we'll have to do applications and things," one said.

"It could be about the misuse of magic on younger students," another suggested.

"Nah, if they were going to do that, they would have done it while the Weasley twins were here."

"I hope they're not going to talk about the birds and the bees and appropriate relationships," another chimed in. "I had to deal with that from my parents, and I don't need it from them too."

"They could be bringing back the duelling club! That would be great!" A Ravenclaw sitting next to Luna exclaimed. "What do you think, Luna?"

"Hmm?" Luna pretended to come out of a trance. "I think it might have something to do with the real world. Or trauma counselling. How to help the younger years get through it, stuff like that."

The girl paused to think about it. "Maybe. Or it could be like tutoring! You know, helping them!"

"Just shut up about it, alright?" One of the Slytherins snapped. "We find out tomorrow, so stop all your nattering!"

\- Real Life Sucks -

Professor McGonagall smiled from the teacher's table. The conversation ebbed and flowed, but it revolved mainly around the seventh year project. And they had no idea what they were in for.


	2. The New Class

The impatient seventh year students all swarmed to their teachers when the schedules were handed out, each eager to know if the project would be there.

"Life Skills?" Ron asked in confusion. "What in Merlin's name is Life Skills?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "We know just as much as you do, Ron."

"Hey guys," Neville said, coming up behind them.

"Hey Neville. Any idea what this Life Skills class is?" Ron asked gloomily.

"Well, apparently McGonagall's teaching it," he answered.

"Really?" Hermione looked interested. "But she's Headmistress. How will she have time for it?"

"That's probably why she brought in Fleur," Neville shrugged. "Anyway, I'm starving. Breakfast's almost over, by the way."

"Food?" Ron's head popped up from where he was examining his schedule. "'Scuse me, 'scuse me, very important person coming through! Very important mission. Out of my way!" He sat down. "Ah, bacon!"

"Good to know Ron's focussing on the important things," Harry remarked with a wry smile.

"What sort of life skills do they think we need anyway?" Ron asked through a mouthful of pastry. "We've got all the important ones: running, fleeing, surreptitious hurrying."

"Stuffing our faces," Ginny chimed in, placing a kiss on Harry's cheek. Ron made a face at her. A glob of half-chewed pastry fell onto his robes.

"Attention all!" McGonagall's voice rang out through the Hall. "You have five minutes to be in your common room! If you haven't eaten yet, I suggest you do so quickly, Mr Weasley! Seventh year students will be remaining in the Great Hall. If you know of anyone who is not here, I recommend you fetch them."

Hermione quickly poured herself a bowl of muesli and began shovelling it down.

"How can you eat that cardboard?" Ron asked with a disgusted look.

"Has more fibre than bacon," Hermione replied absentmindedly, making notes on her schedule. "Let me see that," she said, pulling Harry's schedule out of his hand.

Ron rolled his eyes at the top of her head and re-loaded his fork. Just as it reached his mouth, the food disappeared from the table. He frowned. "I wasn't finished that."

"You're never finished, Ron," Ginny laughed at him.

"If I could have your attention please?" McGonagall called, her voice magically amplified to fill the room. "Thank you. If there are any students here who are below seventh year, please leave now." A couple of stragglers left the room quietly, running to make it to their common rooms. "I'm sure you're all curious as to what your new class entails. The school feels they are not doing everything they can to equip their graduates with the necessary expertise for after school, especially for those who wish to take up residence closer to the Muggle world. In short, this class is going to teach you to survive life."

There came a chorus of groans.

"I don't need this," Ron muttered. "I've already got my career planned. I'm never going to live in the Muggle world. Besides, we've already survived real life. We survived a year in the war."

Hermione could hear others muttering too.

"I was on the run for a year," Dean Thomas was muttering. "The real world's gonna be a piece of cake."

"I don't need some teacher holding my hand and telling me what to do," a Ravenclaw muttered loudly. "My parents have House Elves. We've got lots of money. I don't need this class."

"With what we've had to survive, this class should be easy as," Ginny grinned, leaning back in her seat. "I can't think of anything McGonagall can teach us that we can't learn ourselves at home. It's probably all cooking and cleaning. Mum already did all that stuff with us. Ron completely failed though. Maybe McGonagall set up this class for him?"

"Everyone else's taken the leap and learned it as they went along," Seamus Finnigan grumbled. "None of the other years had to do this stupid course, she said so. Does she think we're dumb or something?"

"How is this meant to affect the other years?" Harry wondered out loud.

McGonagall smiled to herself as she waited for silence. Just about the only people who hadn't opened their mouths were Miss Granger, Mr Longbottom and Miss Lovegood. This would make lesson number two so much more interesting. "I think I need to explain exactly what will happen in this class.

"Many students here have been attending Hogwarts since they were eleven. When you are at home, you live with your parents. Many of you have House Elves. At Hogwarts, you have very little responsibility other than your pets, if you own one. In many cases, such as owls, this responsibility extends as far as placing them in the Owlery and letting the House Elves here look after them. I do accept that many of you have great life experiences. I applaud you for them.

"However… Mr Thomas, when you were on the run last year, did you ever pay rent? Mr Weasley, just how often did you prepare a meal in your tent?" Ron blushed, and glanced at Hermione. "For those of you with House Elves, I do hope you will not spend the rest of your lives living with your parents. For those of you who leave home, what will you do then? House Elves are expensive, and not easily purchased on a single Ministry salary. Most of you will indeed be working for the Ministry for at least part of your life.

"Have any of you ever had to budget for an entire household? How many people here actually know the meaning of the word 'tax'? These are the skills we will be teaching in Life Skills classes. Once you leave these hallowed halls, we do not want you to step out with only your NEWTs. We want you to leave as prepared as we can make you. And from now on, that includes skills for real life.

"Your first class is tomorrow. If you fail to attend voluntarily, steps will be taken to ensure that you do not lose your way to class again. And you will have to make up for lost classes in your own time.

"You are dismissed."

She turned and swept out the doors, leaving a hall of dumbfounded seventh years behind her. Fleur Weasley was waiting just outside the doors.

"You did not tell zem ze 'ole project?" She asked curiously.

"Best not to give them too much of a shock at once, dear," McGonagall said, patting Fleur's shoulder kindly. "I think Madame Pomfrey will be handing out a few Pepper-Up Potions this morning."


	3. The Class From Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the students learn they know far less of the skills required for day to day living than they thought.

Minerva McGonagall waited patiently in the Great Hall for the last stragglers to arrive. The seventh years looked singularly unimpressed. She could see that her speech from the morning before had mostly worn off. She surveyed the group – relatively small, only thirty students – before addressing them.

"Good morning class. I can see that many of you are still unappreciative of the value of this class. Most of you think you don't need to be here. Quite a few of you think this is beneath you. So we've shaken up the lesson for today. Once I've finished explaining, we will move upstairs to the third floor. Each of you will choose a door, and enter that room alone. On the back of the door is a list of tasks you will need to accomplish. You can use magic if you wish, however you cannot leave the room. For any reason. We will be keeping an eye on you.

"If you would follow me please." She led them up the staircase to the third floor. There were a few minutes of ordered chaos as each student chose a door. McGonagall walked behind them, robes rustling in the sudden silence. "You have three hours," she announced loudly. "Good luck."

The doors silently swung open together, and with varying degrees of smugness and boldness, the students stepped through the doorways. McGonagall smiled to herself. She had two hours until the next lot showed up. It was going to be a good day.

—Real Life Sucks—

Hermione Granger stared at the room in front of her. It was about half the size of a normal classroom, but it didn't have any desks or blackboards. What it did have was an ironing board, a kitchen sink, a crib, a washing machine, a pantry and a stove. She turned, and there, pinned to the back of the door, was a list of jobs. She pulled it off and started reading.

The ironing needs to be done.

Draco Malfoy stared at the list. They had to be kidding. What did they think he was, slave labour? Well, magic was allowed, right? He clicked his fingers.

Nothing happened.

He clicked again, with the same result. He frantically clicked several more times until he gave up. "Dobby." Nothing. "Dobby, get here now." Nothing.

Apparently, House Elves weren't allowed. Now what was he meant to do? He approached what appeared to be the ironing board. He prodded it cautiously with his wand, and leapt back as it caught fire. This work stuff was harder than they let on.

Your child needs to be fed and put to sleep.

Ron Weasley jammed his fingers in his ears. There was a baby in the crib. And it was making a noise louder than his mother's Howlers. Just shut up! He thought desperately.

"Silencio!" He ordered, waving his wand at the crib. He sighed in relief as the noise stopped. Then it started up again, twice as loud.

The washing needs to be put on.

Seamus Finnigan stared at the paper, then at the pile of what was probably washing. He'd seen his mum do this heaps. Sure, she didn't have a Muggle washing machine, but washed was washed, right? How did it go again? It was sort of a wiggle and a swish. He waved his wand hopefully. A fountain of water gushed out the end, surprising him. Finally it stopped, and he was left in a dripping room, with a very wet pile of washing. He shrugged. Good enough for him.

The dishes need to be scrubbed, dried and stacked neatly on the bench.

Luna hummed to herself as she flicked her wand absent-mindedly at the sink. She'd done this hundreds of times at her own house. The sink filled with soapy water and the plates began washing themselves. Another flick of her wand conjured a shiny baby's rattle for the child in the crib. She smiled and turned back to the list.

A letter needs to be written to your parents. It must be at least two pages long.

Neville pulled a quill and roll of parchment out of his bag. McGonagall wouldn't mind if he wrote to his grandmother. He bent over the scroll and tried to block out the baby's screaming. The stupid thing wouldn't stop.

The account books for the house will need to be balanced.

Lavender smiled happily at the book in front of her. As long as she didn't touch it or anything around it, the book would remain balancing on the top of the cup. She didn't know what Professor McGonagall thought would be so hard about this. It was a piece of cake, really.

A meal needs to be cooked.

Harry wasn't having a terrible time, on the whole. Thanks to Aunt Petunia, he had a very good idea for most of the things on the list, but it just went on and on and on… He flipped the bacon in the frying pan, and tried very hard to ignore the screaming from the next room. He didn't know what Ron had done to the baby, but it sounded painful.

You need to fill in a sick leave form to account for being absent from work.

Ron stared in horror at the little green slip. It was covered in little boxes, with abbreviations next to them like "Ex. Pro. En" and "dts Inc." He crumpled it up and threw it into the crib, where the baby continued to scream.

The floor needs to be scrubbed and the rug needs to be beaten.

Draco frowned at the mop. How did it work? He supposed it was logical to hold it there and put that bit on the floor, but aside from that he had no idea. And beating a rug? How did that work? What was it meant to achieve? Frowning, he nevertheless picked up the ironing board and began whacking it against the rug and floor, doing absolutely nothing for either.

The tap is leaking. It really should be fixed.

Seamus glared at the sink. It hadn't been dripping five seconds ago, but as soon as he'd read that… He hadn't a clue how to fix it, and that noise was driving him mad. He leaned over the crib, grabbed a spare dummy and shoved it up the tap. Problem solved. Drip. Drip. Drip. Maybe not…

Your calendar needs to be updated. Your list of appointments sadly went through the wash. You'll need to sort it out.

Hermione stared at the dripping mush in front of her. The writing had blurred together and the pages were sticking. She prodded it with her wand, then confidently cast a spell. She watched as the pages restored themselves to their original state. She picked up a quill and peered at the first page.

Damn. It was all in French.

The Smiths have just moved into the house down the road. They're a Muggle family, and it would be nice to give them something to welcome them to their new home.

Neville scribbled hastily on a blank piece of parchment.

Hello, welcome to the neighbourhood. I hope your house is nice. The last people who lived there left in a hurry, and we think it's haunted. Have a nice day.

P.S. Please don't scream loudly in the middle of the night. It inconveniences us all.

He grinned. If Professor McGonagall ever actually checked up on all this, he was in trouble.

Your child may need their nappy changed.

Lavender stared in horror at the child. It was crying even louder, and a rather unpleasant smell was coming from the crib. She gagged, and ran for the door. There was no handle on the inside, just another piece of paper that said "You are not to leave the room for any reason until the time is up."

"Let me out! Let me out!" she yelled, hammering on the door. "Please?"

You promised to make a dress for the nice girl next door. You will find a list of specifications in the cupboard.

Harry was hopelessly tangled in a roll of fabric. Every time he breathed he was pricked with more pins, and the list of instructions was lost. Finally, he fought his way out of the material and hacked off a length. Very carefully, he cut a circular hole in the centre. There. She could just stick it over her head. If it was good enough for the Greeks, it was good enough for her.

You've been putting off painting the walls for two weeks, but you finally have the paint. Your boss will be coming to dinner tomorrow, so it would be best to do it today.

Luna slumped into the chair. She was so tired she could barely move. Every new noise or smell, even barely perceptible ones, set the baby crying again. The child had long since tired of the rattle, and every time Luna placed it back in the crib, the rattle would come flying out and hit another part of her. With aching arms, she pried open the tin of paint. Picking up the paintbrush, she scooped up some paint and flung it at the wall, not caring if it went onto the floor, the ceiling or even herself. The end result was a series of splatters of paint, all around the room. Luna considered the job done, and breathed a sigh of relief before turning back to the list. Still thirty things to do.

—Real Life Sucks—

Professor McGonagall checked the hourglass again, watching the last few grains of sand trickle through the bulb. With a grin, she clicked her fingers and the doors swung open. Several students burst out of the room, fleeing from the child that had not stopped screaming. Others dragged themselves out slowly, utterly exhausted. Many were wet, some smelled awful and some were covered in paint.

"Did anyone complete their list of tasks?" She asked, containing her smile. Students looked sheepishly at each other before shaking their heads. "I didn't think so. Who found it hard?" There was a chorus of assent.

"That was a taste of life outside Hogwarts, especially for those who will find themselves living among Muggles. Not every day will be like that. Most days won't be anything like that. This exercise was created to give you a better appreciation for the value of these lessons. Many of our previous graduates have struggled to find their feet in the world outside school. You are dismissed. I suggest you run along to your next class. Your teachers will expect attendance. It is, after all, only the second day of term."

There was a groan, and the students dragged themselves past her to their next classes. She waited until they were gone, then checked her timepiece again. There was an hour before the third lot of students arrived. A sweeping wave of her wand set the rooms back to their original states, and the doors swung closed.

McGonagall smiled. She couldn't wait to see what the next lot came up with.


End file.
